Perfect
by SuperstitiousSeaturtles
Summary: Alfred gets in trouble at school, which causes Arthur to be pulled out of a meeting. A little domestic oneshot about a human AU FACE family, with some cameos from others as well.


The silence in the conference room was suddenly pierced with a high pitched sound of a ringtone.

Arthur blushed, excused himself and quickly exited the room, glancing at the caller ID. Francis. Of course, who else would it be? With a deep sigh he pressed the green earphone, readying himself to thoroughly scold his irresponsible husband.

'Francis, I'm currently in a meeting. Moreover, you know perfectly well that I'm in a meeting. May I ask you what is so important and couldn't wait an hour?'

'I know, I know I'm sorry! It's just that…' Francis sounded unsure as to wether he wanted to continue.

'It's just what? I swear to God, if you're not going to tell me in the next thirty seconds, I'm hanging up. I have more important matters to deal with.'

At the other end of the line the frenchman sighed with resignation and decided to start over. 'Okay, I know how you get with things like that, so just try not to exaggerate, please.'

Arthur instantly seized from pacing around the corridor and froze in place. 'What's happened? Is anybody hurt? Is my brother asking me to bail him out again? Is it _worse_ than that?!'

'Calm down, lapin, nobody's hurt. Not seriously anyway.'

'What do you mean _not seriously_? I warn you, Francis, if you don't explain what's happened immediately, _you're_ going to be the one who's hurt.'

Francis huffed into the phone. 'Honestly, you're just always so dramatic with those things. Just let me finish my sentence, will you? It's about the boys. The headmaster called. Neither of them is hurt, but apparently Alfred has punched another kid in a PE class, and they want one of the parents to pick both of them up. I know you're terribly busy, but I really can't do it today, I'm catering a wedding, and the bride already looks like she wants to kill everyone in her path…'

'Oh God. Yes, I get it, I'll go there as soon as I can get out of here, just let me talk to my boss.'

'Of course. Thank you, cher. I'll be home around six, alright?'

'Yes, fine, I'll see you then.' Arthur hung up, not even waiting for Francis to reply. He hurried back into the conference room and approached his boss. The man who was never amused by anything and quite possibly had no soul.

'Ekhm… Excuse me, sir?' his voice was barely above a whisper, but half of the room still looked at him angrily. 'I'm terribly sorry, but is it maybe possible for me to excuse myself? You see, my son is… sick. Extremely sick. And, unfortunately, my spouse cannot pick him up from school, due to a wedding. I promise I will catch up on my work at home, but I really need to show up at his school as soon as possible.'

Arthur was used to lying by now. Or, at least, averting the truth. He did it on daily basis, always referring to Francis as 'his spouse'. He despised it, of course, but he really didn't have much choice, considering a fair bit of the law firm he worked for was openly and proudly homophobic. Which, in his humble opinion, shouldn't happen among respected lawyers, but unfortunately did, and also meant, that it was highly possible for him to loose his job if he didn't keep himself in check. So he did. Lying about other matters was a skill he developed alongside. He knew he would never be excused simply because of a nine-year-old punching another nine-year-old. So he just improvised a little.

The gloomy fat man looked at him suspiciously (which didn't really have anything to do with him being suspicious, it was just the way he looked at people) and finally gave him a short nod. 'Fine. Go. Contact Sandra afterwards, she will brief you.'

Arthur gave his boss a slight bow of his head and turned to leave. Now he could finally start worrying about his son's antics. Honestly, that child was impossible sometimes…

* * *

><p>'So, do you mind telling me what exactly happened?'<p>

The three of them were sat in a parked car, in front of the school. Arthur was looking expectantly at the older twin, who sported a very angry expression, although he was starring intently at his shoes. Matthew just looked as if he'd been crying.

'Didn't the headmaster tell you? I punched Peter in the face.'

'Yes, he did tell me that. However, what he didn't tell me is _why_ you punched Peter in the face.'

'Because he's stupid.'

Arthur rolled his eyes. 'Don't be ridiculous, Alfred. I highly doubt you punched him because he isn't intelligent enough for your liking. Why don't you tell me what happened _before_ you punched him?'

Alfred stayed silent for a couple of seconds, but eventually he sighed and started talking. 'We were supposed to be playing soccer during PE-'

'Football.'

Alfred gave his father a look that could probably burn a person alive.

'Right, sorry. Please, continue.'

'So we were supposed to play _soccer_, and Peter and Mike were choosing the teams. I got chosen second, but Mattie was left as the last one, even after the girls. So I said that Mattie is really great at soccer, and that they're stupid if they don't wanna choose him. And then Peter said, that if no one ever notices him, and when they do, they think he's me, then he can't be good at anything. And then I told him to take it back, but he wouldn't, and then he made Mattie cry, because he said nobody even knows he exists, and it wouldn't make any difference if he didn't. So I punched him in the face.'

Arthur looked at the younger twin, who was silent as ever, but his eyes were still a little puffy.

'Matthew? Did Peter really say such a nonsensical thing to you?'

Matt just nodded, sniffling a bit. Arthur sighed and twisted his body around as much as the car seat would allow him.

'Listen, love. People will sometimes say awful things to you. However, that does not mean you should ever believe them. You are a wonderful person, and both me and your papa love you to bits, okay? Your brother, as you can tell by the recent events, also cares about you very deeply. You should never pay attention to what those horrible people say, because it's not worth it. You should only ever listen to what people who care about you have to say, because that's the only thing that matters.' he put a reassuring hand on his son's knee, as that was as far as he could reach, and gave him a warm smile, which Matt returned, somewhat tentatively.

'And as for you, Alfred' he switched his attention to the other boy. 'I know you want to protect your brother, but punching others really won't solve anything. There is a reason there's always an adult nearby at school - next time just go to a teacher and explain what's going on. That way you won't get in trouble, and the teacher might just manage to explain to Peter why he shouldn't say things like that. Whereas if you punch him, he'll only get mad and won't understand why what he did wasn't okay. Alright?'

The boy just nodded, but didn't stop looking at his shoes, this time sulking silently.

'Also, concerning what you said about girls getting chosen last - I know for a fact, that half of those girls could probably kick your butt in any game, so don't underestimate them.'

At that, Al's head shot up, curiosity beaming from his eyes. 'How can you know?'

'Well, let's just say me and your father have more than one female friend who proves the stereotype wrong.'

'Like who?' Alfred wasn't going to let that one go that easily. Arthur smiled slightly at his son's curiosity.

'Do you remember aunt Liz?'

'No…'

'Oh, well, you wouldn't, you were only four when you last saw her. Anyway, she works for the army.'

'So she's a secretary or something?'

At that, Arthur couldn't contain a hefty laugh. 'No, love, she's a captain. She's in the air force, and she's _very_ good at what she does.'

'Whoa, that's so cool! I wanna meet her!' Alfred's eyes went wide, and even Matthew perked up a bit. Arthur just chuckled at his sons' enthusiasm.

'And you shall, as soon as she comes back from the training she's currently conducting. She was asked to train recruits somewhere in central Europe, and they seem a little reluctant to let her go…'

'Do you and papa know any other cool people?' Al asked, jumping up and down in his seat.

'Certainly. For example, Ivan's sister, Katya, is a professional hockey player.'

This time it was Matthews turn to get excited and start jumping up and down. 'Really? I had no idea!'

Alfred, on the other hand, looked shocked. 'But… she's so… girly! And nice! How can she be a hockey player?'

Arthur smiled at the bewildered nine-year-old. 'You should never judge a book by it's cover, dear.'

Matt, however, didn't seem surprised at all. He just started bombarding his father with a avalanche of questions. 'What team does she play for? How long has she been playing? Is it really hard to get into a team? Can we go see her play? Please, dad!'

The man in question smiled fondly at his younger son. 'You can ask her all of those questions yourself, when she comes around for dinner on Saturday. And yes, of course we can go see her play some day, we'll just have to set the date with your papa, okay?' Matt nodded enthusiastically, but Alfred looked a little unsure for some reason.

'Dad… Is Ivan coming as well?'

'No, dear, he's not. Katya was kind enough to agree to eat dinner with us and then watch you two while your father and I go to the opera house.' The older twin seemed relieved, maybe too much so, but Arthur decided not to question his behaviour and just get home already.

'Alright lads, we're going home, and, as your papa won't be back until six, we get to buy takeaway. Your choices are: chinese, indian, or a pizza. What will it be?'

'Pizza!' both nine-year-olds exclaimed loudly, throwing their hands in the air.

'Wise choice. In that case, off we go!'

* * *

><p>'Really, Arthur? Junk food?'<p>

'Oi, it was no junk food! You can't call a pizza made by your own cousin junk food! Besides, I would've loved to cook them something myself, but I would probably end up brutally murdered if I as much as touched anything in your kitchen.'

'That is true. And how did it go with the boys? Did you find out why our son tried to rearrange someone's face?'

Arthur huffed. 'Who's being dramatic now? He just punched another kid, it's not he end of the world, Francis.'

'Perhaps not, but, last time I heard, Peter's nose was broken, and they actually needed to put stitches on it.'

'Did they? Imagine that…' The Brit raised his eyebrows, not showing even remote signs of concern.

'You don't seem very troubled by that fact, dear. May I ask why that is?'

'Well, perhaps I'd be more concerned, had the boy not made my son cry by insinuating his existence was worthless. But in current situation, I honestly couldn't care less.'

'I see.' Francis pursed his lips for a brief moment, but he soon shook his head and smiled at his husband. 'Anyway. As the boys are both in their beds, although certainly not asleep yet, would you like a cup of tea and a piece of a strawberry tart? I brought what was left from the wedding home with me.'

'Brilliant. Yes, I think I need to just sit down for a second, after an afternoon of trying to work whilst taking care of those demons.'

'Are they demons or angels though?' the frenchman asked over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen. Arthur smiled to himself as he followed him. 'Probably both, somehow. How did they end up so… time-consuming?'

'They are kids, mon cher. Nine-year-olds tend to do that.'

'Yeah, I guess.' Arthur sighed and leaned on the counter, watching Francis put the kettle on and cut the strawberry tart into perfect triangles.

'We don't have it that bad though, do we?'

'Huh?' Francis turned around, obviously distracted.

'I mean, all this. The boys, a nice suburban house… We even have a fireplace. Would you have expected that back when we first met?'

Francis smiled, reminiscing those old college days.'No, I definitely wouldn't have. And it's no wonder, considering you slapped me when we first met.'

'Yeah, I remember. You deserved it though.'

'Oui, I did. But, to my defence, I was terribly drunk.'

Both men laughed at the memory.

'I'm glad we're past all that nonsense already. All the dating, playing hard to get, getting jealous, etcetera. I think I prefer it like it is now. Just relaxed and stable. Well, as relaxed and stable as being married to _you_ can be.'

'Me too, lapin. I think everything is perfect the way it is now.' With that, Francis leaned over the counter and placed a tender kiss on his husbands mouth.

And it _was_ perfect.

**A/N:**

**As always, please tell me what you think. I hope you enjoyed this little bugger, I quite like it.**

**Reviewers will get virtual strawberry tarts. They're bleeding' delicious.**


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